Seven Days
by SaveSoccerCar
Summary: Harry is extremely sick when Draco finds him in the middle of the night, in the Room of Requirment...What happens that night? How does that affect their relationship? Light fluff, HPDM...
1. Fever in the Room of Requirement

**Okay, so this is my first HPDM story...nothing really happens between the two...it's just another one of those someone's-sick-so-their-rival-and-future-love-takes-care-of-them stories. **

**I'm thinking of writing a sequel to this, and I probably will...Please let me know what you think of it!**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Draco Malfoy looked up as giant shadow passed the corner where he was skillfully hidden. He wondered what anyone was doing this late at night, wandering the halls. He doubted it was a teacher, since the shadows were far too short. So, it had to be a student. He grinned. Well, now he could get another unsuspecting student into trouble.

He placed himself under a practiced disillusionment charm and walked silently behind the wandering students. Because it was so dark, he still couldn't tell who they were, but he really didn't care. What did surprise him, however, was how far they were going.

The student walked only a short distance before stopping. Then they started walking again, but this time, it was as if they were pacing. They walked down to a window, back to where they'd started, and back again to window; the whole time murmuring something along the lines of "I need to find a place where a sick person can rest comfortably." Then, they looked at the wall. Draco followed their gaze and gasped.

There, on the seemingly normal wall, had appeared a door.

The student in front of him looked up to see what had caused the noise he'd just heard, but Draco didn't notice. What he did notice was that instead of being one student, there was three. And he knew the three students pretty well.

_Oh, I am going to love getting them into trouble!_ He thought to himself, gleefully.

It was the famous Golden Trio, all looking about cautiously.

The Mudblood, Granger, stood to the far right of the group, her eyes narrowed and calculating, even though it was probably past midnight by then. She had on her muggle clothes – jeans and a sweatshirt – and was clutching her wand tightly.

The blood traitor, Weasley, was on the far left, also clutching his wand. He seemed a bit frightened, but he was obviously trying to hide it – and was failing miserably. He had on the same clothes as Granger – she had obviously infected him with her tawdry taste – and looked very foolish.

And, of course, in the middle, was our little hero, the "Boy Who Lived" and whatnot. He looked – miserable. His head was hung low and his arms were around both Granger's and Weasley's shoulders. He looked as if he could barely stand, let alone look around for someone whom they could not see. His wand was barely in his hand and he seemed to be falling asleep on his feet.

"Come on, Hermione!" Weasley said suddenly, and turned to face the door that was still there. Granger scanned the general direction Draco was standing in before nodding her head and smirking; she then turned towards the door as well.

Draco wondered what she'd found so amusing, but curiosity got the best of him as to what was behind the door. In all his five years at Hogwarts, he'd never seen this room before.

He followed them closely and managed to slip in behind them right before the door was closed. And he almost gasped again.

He had somehow found himself in a homely, warm looking room, all set with a kitchen, a dining room, a couch, and a bed. There was a fireplace near the couch to keep the room warm and the whole place was decorated with colors of all four houses.

The bed, and the fireplace, was made in Gryffindor red and gold. The floors were carpeted in Ravenclaw blue and bronze. The whole kitchen and dining room was full of Hufflepuff yellow and black. And the walls, the couch, and the ceiling were all decorated in Slytherin green and silver.

At first, Draco grimaced at the color choices, thinking that the place could've done without the colors of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. The Slytherin colors, to him, looked perfectly well off by themselves.

He then turned his eyes to Potter and his two best friends, wondering what in the world the three were doing here at this time of night. He didn't have to wait too long for his answer.

"Lay down, Harry!" Granger said in a scolding tone; "no matter how much you want to deny it, you're sick, and you need to rest!"

Draco smirked. So, the boy was sick, huh? He would have fun then.

"'Mione…I'm fine! I have to finish Snape's assignment or he'll have my arse for good this time!" Harry croaked out before drowning in a fit of coughs.

"Whatever you say, mate! But you're staying here! I brought your stuff for you, 'cause I knew you'd get all worked up." Weasley replied, smiling nervously at Potter and pushing him down onto the bed. He threw what looked like Potter's bag next to him.

"Get some rest, Harry, and we'll be back tomorrow to check on you and help you out!" Granger smiled ruefully at Potter before she and Weasley turned around and started to leave. Weasley left first, but Granger hung back.

She looked back at Potter and suddenly slammed Draco against the door. "I don't know what you're doing here, Malfoy, but it'd better not harm Harry in any way, shape, or form. I'll know if you do something to him, and I'll come after you to make you pay!" She smirked up at his invisible face and let go of him. "Oh, and you're charm may be strong, but mine's stronger, so I can tell!"

She then hurried out the door and shut it behind her before Draco could hex her.

_Who does she think she is, cornering me against a door of all things, that filthy Mudblood!_ He silently reprimanded himself for getting stuck in a situation like that before remembering where he was.

He looked over to Potter, who was staring with curious eyes at where he was standing. Granger may have been able to tell, but Potter sure couldn't.

"Who's there?" He asked still staring straight at invisible Draco.

Draco was surprised how strong Potter voice was, considering how he'd coughed just a few minutes before.

"I know you're there! I saw Hermione push you up against a wall and say something! Who are you?"

Draco smirked and removed his disillusionment charm, causing Potter to gasp.

"Malfoy!" His voice was streaked with traces of weak anger as he called out Draco's name. "What're you doing here? How'd you get in here?"

"Hello, Potter! Sick, are we?" Draco replied, his voice perfectly content at being cheeky.

Potter continued to glare at Draco, obviously not wanting to reply until Draco answered his questions. For once, Draco complied.

"I heard you guys sneaking around and thought I could get you into trouble if I followed you. You should be more careful, Potter. What is this room, anyway?"

"What were you doing out of bed so late, Malfoy?"

"I'm part of the Inquisitorial Squad, remember, Potter? I'm allowed to be out late, if I want to that is."

Potter didn't seem to have a reply for that, so Draco started to explore the room.

It seemed perfect for a sick person, all warm, comfortable, and quiet. The only thing that seemed to be missing was food and water.

Draco was examining the quality of the couch when he heard a harsh coughing sound behind him.

Potter was hunched over, with his arm in front of his mouth, and seemed to be coughing his life out. Draco almost felt sorry for him.

"What, Potter, can't take a simple potion to cure a cold?" Draco asked tauntingly.

He was answered with even more coughing that went on for a while. When Potter finally spoke, his voice sounded weak and raw.

"I hate those stupid potions, they taste so bad!"

"Yes, but they work."

"I don't care! I still hate the taste, and I'd rather suffer through the cold than have to live through a few seconds of that horrible taste! It's not like I haven't done it before…"

The last part caught Draco off-guard as Harry trailed off. The tone of sadness and anger that had entered his voice was obvious, but Draco just didn't want to ask Potter, of all people, if he was okay.

"Stubborn fool!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Potter croaked out before falling into another fit of coughs, while Draco smirked madly.

"You don't seem to be in the condition to make any demands, Potter!"

Again, Potter was unable to answer.

Then, Draco had a brilliant idea.

"Do you have a fever?" he asked, trying to appear triumphant.

"What? No, of course not!" Harry said in an irritable tone while flapping his arms in a weird motion.

"Yeah, right! Let me check, Potter!"

Draco walked up to the sick boy and tried to place his hand on his forehead. Potter smacked it away.

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?"

Potter had his arms in front of him in a defensive motion, but Draco just laughed. Like Potter could really defend himself when he obviously felt like crap.

"Trying to check if you have a temperature, clearly."

"What? I already checked, Malfoy! I don't have one!"

"Right…"

Suddenly, Draco moved quickly and pinned down both of Potter's arms by his side. He then pressed his own forehead to the forehead of the boy beneath him. Potter started to squirm underneath Draco, but Draco pulled away quickly.

"Don't have a fever, huh? Your temperature must be at least thirty-nine degrees! You should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"No! I don't want to go see her! I hate spending the night at the hospital!"

"It's not a hospital, Potter."

"Well, I hate spending the night there! It's all white and cold and restrictive!"

"Yes, but she could give you the potion to get rid of your cold."

"I already told you I don't want it!"

Throughout their whole bickering session, Draco had noticed Potter's voice get weaker and weaker. Now, it was barely more than a whisper.

"Fine, Potter, be a stubborn git! Spend the night here for all I care!"

Draco was a bit put off by Potter's resistance to get instant help when that would've been logical. He marched out of the room, shut the door behind him, and cast the disillusionment charm on himself again, before walking away.

Strangely enough, he found himself in front of the Hogwarts kitchen.

_What am I doing here of all places?_ He asked himself before removing the disillusionment charm, tickling the pear and entering.

It took about two milliseconds for Draco to be surrounded by about ten house-elves, all with wide eyes, and all ready to offer him some food.

"What would you like, Master Malfoy?"

Draco turned around at the familiar voice and smiled at his old house-elf, Dobby. He'd used to like Dobby a lot before he'd accidentally gotten free. Dobby still visited him every now and then, but usually with stories of how great Harry Potter was. Most of the time, Draco didn't hold that against him.

"Hello, Dobby! Do you have any chicken corn soup that I could have? And maybe some ice cold water?" Draco had always tried to be polite, even to house-elves, and he treated Dobby the same.

"Of course, Master Malfoy! We'll get you what you require immediately!"

"Actually, I'll be right back, I need to get something. Please have the food ready by the time I get back."

Dobby and the other house-elves nodded to the Draco and he walked out of the kitchen. Then, he remembered one more thing and reentered the kitchen.

"Yes, Master Malfoy?" A new house-elf asked, her eyes wide.

"Can you also prepare some fruit, preferably oranges, and a lot of chocolate?"

"Of course!"

"Thanks a lot!"

And he left yet again, replacing the disillusionment charm, this time heading towards the Slytherin common room. He quickly murmured the password and headed up to his dorm room. He knew the others would be there, but he hoped they'd be asleep by now. It was about one in the morning. They usually didn't stay up late unless there was something important to discuss, and as far as he knew, there wasn't anything of the sort.

Besides, they wouldn't be able to see him anyway. But, they might get suspicious if they saw the door opening and closing, and an invisible person rummaging through his trunk.

Draco sighed in relief when he opened the door to his dorm room and saw all the lights turned off. He heard snores coming from every bed that was occupied currently, and smirked. They all seemed to be sleeping like babies. That would make his task so much easier.

He went to his trunk and found some a scarf and a hat, some warm robes, and towel. He also grabbed the remainders of the Dreamless Sleep Potion he had and pocketed as much as he could.

He made sure that everyone was still asleep before slipping out of the dorm and heading back to the kitchen. There he was greeted with the food he'd asked for all placed rather nicely on a tray. The soup and the hot water had warm steam floating off, and the smell tempted Draco incredibly well. He shook his head, grabbed the tray, thanked the house-elves, and was well on his way to the seventh floor.

However, on his way there, he heard something. Cursing lightly, he remembered that he'd forgotten to put the disillusionment charm back on himself after taking it off in the kitchen. He quickly made himself invisible once again, along with the tray of food, and levitated it. He looked around to see if there was anyone there and cursed again.

Mrs. Norris was standing around the corner and staring straight at Draco. He suddenly knew that she knew he was there and decided to watch her. She turned around, probably to go look for Filch and tell him about the new troublemaker. Once she'd disappeared, Draco hurried on his way to the seventh floor. He remembered what the three had done before to get the room to appear, so he did the same thing. The first time he tried, it was to no avail. However, the second time, the room seemed to hear him and appeared. He shut the door behind him and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He was definitely one of those people who hated Mrs. Norris.

"Who's there?" A familiar voice croaked out. Potter seemed to have gotten weaker while Draco had been gone.

"Who do you think, Potter?" He remarked snidely.

"I thought you'd left for good, Malfoy?"

"How unfortunate for you. I actually feel kind today. So, you're going to have to suffer through me taking care of you, Potter. You'd better thank me when you're all better. Oh, and tell Granger that I didn't do anything to harm you, will you? I don't want to have to embarrass her in front of the whole school tomorrow morning."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Potter sat up in the bed and looked at Malfoy with suspicious eyes.

"I said I'm going to take care of you until you get better, Potter!"

"But…why?"

"So I can spread rumors about how weak you are when you're sick!"

"Everyone's weak when they're sick!"

"I'm not!" Malfoy smirked at the younger boy.

"Yeah right!" Potter finally replied before entering _another_ bout of coughs.

"Whatever, Potter, believe for now what you want."

Draco finally removed the disillusionment charm off of himself, cursing his lack of an invisibility cloak. That was when Potter noticed the food that was there for him.

"How does your throat feel?" Draco asked, levitating the tray over to the dining table.

"Like someone's rubbed sandpaper all over it."

"Can you eat or drink anything?"

"Haven't tried."

"When's the last time you ate, Potter?"

"Dinner yesterday."

"You should eat more often, Potter, especially when you're sick. You get weaker because you don't have enough food to create energy for your body."

"How'd you know so much about science, Malfoy?" Potter asked. He climbed out his bed rather quickly and walked over to Draco. He stood by the chairs refusing to sit down.

"Oh, for god's sakes, sit down!" Draco nearly screamed. Potter, after seeing the worried look on Draco's face, reluctantly did as he was told.

"Now, you're going to be good, and eat some of this chocolate."

Draco peeled back the wrapper and broke off a piece of chocolate for Potter. The latter looked at the chocolate suspiciously before deeming it safe. He gobbled it down quicker than Draco had ever done himself. He, secretly, was a chocolate addict.

"You act like you haven't had chocolate in forever, Potter."

"I had it just a few days ago, for your information. But I _love _chocolate, if you must know."

Draco smirked at Potter. At least they had something in common.

"Can I have some more?" Potter looked at Draco with pleading eyes before reaching out and grabbing the chocolate bar for himself. He ate it piece by piece, but it still took him less than a couple of minutes to eat the whole thing.

"A bit of a chocolate addict, are you?"

"So what if I am? Chocolate is wonderful. It should be its own food group! It should rule the world!" Potter's eyes had widened and a fire had entered them as well, all from defending chocolate.

Draco stared at Potter's sudden outburst, before he started laughing. Okay, so now they had three things they had in common. Draco had yet to meet someone as obsessed with chocolate as he was. He would give up his life for chocolate. It was always on the top of his Christmas and Birthday list every year; that was why he was a rather easy person to shop for. That was why he received gifts from his mother all the time at school. His addiction to chocolate was one of his greatest secrets and he was perfectly okay with that. He loved chocolate more than life itself.

"What, Malfoy? Find that funny, do you?"

"It's hilarious!"

"Why?"

"Because you're the only person I've met that feels the same way about chocolate as I do!" And then, Draco shut up. He hadn't meant to reveal to Potter that he was in love with chocolate.

A silence ensued which was only broken when Draco tried to get Potter to eat some of the chicken corn soup. However, Potter vehemently refused.

"That's going to hurt!"

"Yes, but it'll make you feel better!"

"But it's too hot!"

"Potter, just have the damn thing!"

Draco was really starting to lose his patience with this newly annoying Potter, who normally seemed confident and ready to fight Draco. However, now he was acting like a little kid.

"No! It's too hot!"

"Fine, we can let it cool down a little. But in the meantime, you're going to have to do what I say!"

"You're not going to go all perverted on me, are you?"

That stopped Draco in his tracks and a smirk graced his features. It wasn't like his usual smirk…it held more mischief and a load of evil ideas.

"Not unless you want me to, Potter. But that's kinky, you know? Having a crush on your rival, eh?"

"Only in your dreams, Malfoy."

"I did not need to know that you dream about me, Potter." Draco then turned to Potter and stood above him, making it impossible for the younger boy to go anywhere without having to go through Draco first.

"I – I didn't mean it like that, and you know it!"

"Oh, so you're awake when it happens?"

"I – N – Agh, Malfoy, you're twisting this to fit your own ideals!"

"Are you suggesting that I think you're fit?"

"Well maybe I am!"

"For your information, you may be fit, but you're nowhere near as fit or good looking as me!"

"So you admit I'm fit!"

"Yes, Potter, you're very fit."

"Okay, that's kind of creepy…"

"What? Not used to guys telling you that?"

"I'm not used to anyone telling me that actually…"

"Really? What about your fan club?"

"I have a fan club?"

"Yes. We both do. We probably have the two largest fan clubs in the whole school. Everyone knows about them!"

"I don't!"

"Well, obviously!"

"What?"

"Anyway, Potter, drink your soup! It should've cooled down enough by now."

Draco leaned closer to Potter, smirking the whole time, and reached around him to grab the now cool soup. He pulled back and placed the soup right in front of Potter's face, between him and the younger.

"W – What? Oh, yeah…soup!" Potter quickly grabbed a hold of the bowl and started drinking the soup as if it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. It wasn't long before the bowl was empty except for a few drops of soup.

"Thanks a lot, Malfoy! I think I'm going to just go to sleep now!"

Draco quickly moved out of the way of Potter, who seemed like he was on a mission that he just had to accomplish, still smirking.

"You realize that with the headache you probably have, you won't be able to go to sleep right?"

"I'll be fine! Anyway it's not like we have any Dreamless Sleep Potion here."

"Well, would you know, I actually thought to bring some for you, Potter! You should be looking at me as if I'm your savior!"

"…You know you'll never get to look at you like that right?"

"Open your mouth, Potter, and take the potion."

"Fine."

Potter stayed awake for about two minutes after taking the potion; then he collapsed where he was sitting. Draco placed his hand on Potter's back and made him lie down. He decided to check on the sick boy's temperature once more and cursed when he noticed how high it was.

And yet, Potter's face wasn't flushed at all. He wasn't shivering or sweating. You wouldn't have even been able to tell that Potter was sick unless you heard him cough and felt his temperature.

"Damn you, Potter!"

Draco summoned the icy water, which was still, thankfully, still had ice cubes floating in it, and pulled out the towel that was stuffed into one of his pockets. He sat down on the floor, on his knees, next to the bed. He dipped the towel in the water and then placed it on Potter's head. He left it there, put out the fire that was still going in the fireplace, and stared at Potter for a while.

Draco had a soft, lightly annoyed look on his face as he watching the sleeping Golden Boy for a while. The boy was breathing softly, his stomach rising and falling with each breath. He had a peaceful look on his face and for the first time Draco noticed dark circles underneath his eyes. So what he'd heard about Harry having dreams that connected him to the Dark Lord was true.

Draco felt sorry for the boy. He himself had yet to meet the Dark Lord, but all of his family was preparing him for it. They knew it wasn't going to long before the Dark Lord assigned him his first task, but no one seemed to know what it was.

Draco continued using the poultice on Potter until his fever seemed to go down to an acceptable temperature. When he finally finished, Potter turned over in his sleep to face him, tiny drops of water running down his forehead.

Draco almost groaned when he saw what time it was, about five in the morning. He'd been looking after Potter almost all night!

It was then that his tiredness caught up with. As soon as he'd put the towel back into the bowl, Draco collapsed next to Potter, his head and arms on the bed.

He didn't notice when Potter's hands came seeking his own. He also didn't notice how tightly he held on to the warmth that Potter's hands offered.

* * *

"Hermione! Do we have to check on him this early? It's only seven!" A tired Ron Weasley complained to his female best friend.

"Yes, it's seven, and it's been hours since we last saw Harry! He could be dead by now for all we know! Did you notice his fever last night?" Hermione chided her friend, leading the way to the Room of Requirement, where they'd hidden Harry, at his request, the previous night. However, she was even more worried about what Malfoy was sure to have done to her best friend. She didn't know why she'd left Harry's rival and archenemy in the same room as him while he was sick. It had seemed like a logical thing to do at time in the night, but now she was worried sick about her friend. What if Malfoy had decided to not acknowledge her threat?

When they entered the Room of Requirement the two stopped in their tracks.

"What the bloody hell is Malfoy doing in here?" Ron almost screamed, reaching for his wand.

"Shut up, Ron!" Hermione grabbed his hand to stop him from cursing their enemy.

"But, 'Mione! He's a git! And…blimey! I think he's holding on to Harry's hand! Let me have a go at him, please!"

"No! Just wait quietly, or I'll stop helping you with your homework!"

That shut Ron up.

Hermione walked up to the dining table and looked at everything that was there. From what she could tell, Malfoy had brought Harry soup, and Harry's favorite: chocolate. He'd also brought some fruit, but it seemed he hadn't told Harry to eat any yet.

She then turned to the bed and saw the bowl of water and the towel. Lightly, she felt Harry's temperature and sighed in relief when she realized that it had gone down a lot. Then she turned to Malfoy.

He looked more haphazard than she'd ever seen him, and she knew it was because he was probably tired from taking care of Harry all night. She smiled at the connection the two had while sleeping next to each other. She didn't know why, but she'd always thought that something could happen between the two rivals. She'd just never figured out how.

"He's fine, Ron. Let's go get some breakfast."

"Are you sure? What about Malfoy?"

"Let's _go_, Ron!" She pushed him out of the door and closed it behind her.

* * *

When Harry awoke, he felt a hell of a lot better. Sure, he still had a killer headache, and his throat still felt like it had been rubbed for hours upon hours on end with sandpaper, but he still felt better. He raised his left hand up to his forehead and sighed in content. His temperature felt a lot cooler, even to him, and for that he was extremely glad. The fever had made him want to sleep his days away.

If it hadn't been for Malfoy –

Harry jerked awake and sat up suddenly awakening the sleeping blonde next to him. He blushed when he noticed how tightly they were holding on to each other's hands, but he didn't try to let go.

Instead, he was staring into the blonde's eyes. And said blonde was staring back.

"Do you feel better now?" Malfoy finally asked, his voice sounding completely full of sleep.

"Yes…Listen…about what happened last night…"

"Don't worry about it. I won't tell anyone. We can act like it never happened."

Harry nodded to Malfoy, but he couldn't help the feeling of regret that washed over him when the blonde had said that. He'd also noticed the flash of something – what? Anger? Sadness? He didn't know – cross the blonde's eyes. A part of him wanted to address it but, but another part told him to hold his tongue. This was his rival, his archenemy, he was with, and just because of a small, random act of kindness they couldn't be friends. Could they?

Harry shook his head and then tried to get up, but had to finally notice their second problem: they were still holding hands.

Malfoy seemed to notice the problem when Harry had and they both just stared. After a while, they both decided to pull away.

When Malfoy's hand was out of his own, Harry felt a strange emptiness there. It seemed he wanted the hand back, but that was ridiculous, right?

"Right, Malfoy, I should probably be going now…"

Harry walked over to the dining table and grabbed some things which he stuffed into his pockets.

* * *

Draco watched Potter with careful eyes as Harry grabbed some food off the table.

He wondered what this strange feeling was that was bubbling up inside of him. Why'd he even stayed all night to help Potter feel better? He didn't know, but a large part of him was glad that he'd stayed.

Potter turned to walk over to the door. Then, he stopped and turned around.

"Oh! I forgot something!" Potter suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" Draco looked around for what Potter had forgotten.

"I just wanted to say…thanks, Draco…thanks for last night!"

Draco looked up, surprised to see Potter blushing. Wait…had he just called him by his first name?

"No problem, Harry…Anytime!" Draco replied, still in a daze. Pot – Harry nodded and walked out of the room, leaving a dazed Draco behind. He stood there for a long time before an incredulous thought struck him.

_I think I might actually be falling for Harry Potter!_

* * *

**Okay, so what did you guys think? Did you like it/hate it? Anything I can improve on?**

**Should I put up a SEQUAL to this? If I did, it'd probably be the second chapter to this story, and it'd focus on their relationship developing. It'd probably be a short fluffy story. What do you guys think?**

**Thanks a lot for reading!**


	2. Potions in the Library

**Yay! Early update (yeah, I know I'm **_**very**_** late, but please forgive me!)! I meant to update tomorrow, but I finished typing out the chapter tonight, so I'm just going to go ahead and post it. **

**It took me this long finish this chapter because everyone wanted a sequel. So, I spent a lot of time thinking out the plot of this story. It's not that good, and it's not as complicated as it can be, but I've gotten an even better idea which I'll tell you all about at the end of the story (not this chapter!). I planned everything out, which (for some strange reason) gave me a case of writer's block, so it took forever to write this chapter! I swear, I have like seven different drafts of this that I just didn't like. **

**Anyway, ELEVEN reviews for one chapter!! You have no idea how happy that made me, and I'm really glad that most seem to want to know how Harry's and Draco's relationship will be progressing. So here's the next chapter!**

**ENJOY!!**

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Chapter 2: Potions in the Library

That afternoon, Harry made his way to the library. He needed to finish the essay Snape had assigned them on the Essence of Dittany. Harry did not want to find out what Snape would be doing to him if he got something lower than an A on the essay. But, knowing Snape, he'd give Harry a P just to be nasty to him. Harry wondered if Snape was even allowed to do that, but knew Snape would get away with it.

However, when Harry got to the library, he found someone he didn't expect to see. Draco Malfoy strode into the library at almost the exact same time Harry did, looking proud and confident. When he noticed Harry, Harry saw that he was smirking.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, immediately defensive. That smirk, in his experience, was never a good thing.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern, Potter!" Malfoy's reply was even and calm; Harry couldn't find a single trace of malice in it.

Harry didn't know what to say, but apparently, he didn't need to. Malfoy turned and walked away, going towards the back of the library. Harry stared after him for a bit, remembering how the blonde had taken care of him the previous night. At first, he hadn't given it much thought. However, now Harry truly wondered what Malfoy had been thinking. If it had been any other person, Harry would have accepted their help without questioning them about it. But Malfoy – Malfoy was different. He hated Harry. He wouldn't just do something like that out of the kindness of his heart.

Part of that was due to the fact that Malfoy probably didn't even have one.

But, curious as he was, Harry did not follow Malfoy. He prioritized Snape's wrath above his curiosity; instead, he made his way to the Potions section of the library, taking the quickest route that he knew of – past the Transfiguration section, then behind the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, and there it was!

The whole Potions section of the library was empty. Harry checked twice, just to make sure, but he definitely had the place all to himself. He sighed in relief and set his bag down on the desk next to the only window. He hated the Potions section of the library, and he didn't want someone else there to make him feel worse.

Harry looked around once again, just the place in. It was dark, cold, and unwelcoming. The only light came from the window, but it was a pretty dreary day as well.

Harry suppressed a shiver and started searching the shelves that contained information on Medicinal Potions, picking up a few promising texts. He finally sat down and started on his essay –

– When he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

He tried to ignore them at first, but as they got louder, Harry got more distracted.

_Whose shoes could possibly make that much noise?_ Harry angrily asked himself. That damned noise kept him from concentrating and he soon started to get very irritated.

"Will you stop that?" Harry finally hissed out, his eyes narrowed and staring at the person, who'd been making all that noise, now standing at the beginning of the Potions section.

And Harry cursed himself silently. There, standing looking as cocky and haughty as ever, was Malfoy. He had a book clutched in his hand, but from where he was, Harry couldn't see the title. Harry guessed that Malfoy had probably come to work on his essay as well. However, Harry had wanted to suffer alone, and having someone there who was excellent at Potions would not help the situation. There was also the tiny little detail that Malfoy and Harry hated each other.

"Potter," Malfoy spat out, staring him down, his eyes full of the usual loathing.

"Malfoy," Harry curtly replied, refusing to back down from the unofficial challenge. He had started to greatly resent the boy for beating him almost every time with his quelling looks.

They kept glaring at each other, getting closer and closer to the climax of the little challenge and then – Malfoy won.

Again.

Harry blinked and refocused on his work, the past few seconds rushing through his head.

Malfoy had looked away. Normally, that would've meant Harry had won. However, the way Malfoy had looked away – like Harry was someone he could even bother to glance at because they were on two completely different levels – had proved his victory.

Inside, Harry was boiling with frustration.

Out of his peripheral vision, Harry saw Malfoy lazily flick his wand and murmur a spell. Suddenly, about four or five text books came zooming out of their shelves and neatly arranged themselves in front of him. Another lazy flick of the wand and they all opened themselves to what Harry assumed correctly to be the right page. Harry tried to best to read the chapter titles upside down, but to no avail. He gave up and went back to his own books.

Finally, Malfoy sat down – directly across from Harry. The blonde didn't say anything, so Harry didn't push it. It was the only place in the section with decent enough light to work by, so Malfoy had every right to be there, just like Harry.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how long the two of them had been there, both silently working away at the same project, separately. What he did know was that his hand was getting tired and he wouldn't be able to write much more. Also, he seemed to be running out of information to write, and he still had a good six inches until he met the length requirement for the essay: two feet.

Harry cursed under his breath and put his quill down. He didn't want to write anymore. He wished Hermione was there and would look over the essay for him. She'd know exactly how to make it longer.

Harry often wondered how Hermione always managed to write so much more than everyone else, even though her handwriting was so damn tiny. It was one of the many things about her that he'd started to notice and really appreciate.

Harry was extremely well aware of the fact that he'd started to get a little crush on his best friend.

"Potter? Potter!"

A relatively annoying voice brought Harry out of his head. Malfoy was looking at him, smirking. His tone of voice alerted Harry to the fact that the blonde questioned his mental stability. Harry snorted.

"What, Malfoy?" Harry replied, hoping his voice conveyed all the impatience he felt with the blonde. He wasn't completely sure what had been going on just a few seconds before. He remembered putting the quill down, then – blank. So, he wondered what Malfoy wanted.

"Do you mind? I can hear you mumbling to yourself about Granger – though why you'd ever like her is beyond me – and it's quite distracting, trying not to throw up on my assignment. Some of us are actually trying to pass Potions, Potter."

Malfoy's reply was smug and nonchalant. Harry heard everything, but only held on to one piece of information.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "I don't like Hermione."

The expression in Malfoy's eyes clearly said that he didn't believe a word that Harry had just said.

"Yeah right, Potter! You were mumbling about how smart she is, and how she'd help you with the essay. You also said something about her being pretty, but I don't see it."

"I did not!" Harry snapped back, hoping his ability of not blushing easily was helping him this one time. Harry assumed it was, since Malfoy's expression didn't change. However, it seemed Malfoy knew that he was uncomfortable, and surprised him by dropping the subject.

"You know, Potter, there are people, other than Granger, who know a thing or two about Potions. You've still yet to complete your essay."

"Really?" Who? I don't know anyone else that can stand Sna –"

Harry cut himself off as Malfoy's train of thought finally caught up with him. He could see why that might actually work. The only thing holding him back was his own stubborn pride, but that was quickly losing when compared to Snape.

"You, Malfoy?" Harry eventually asked, less for confirmation than time.

Malfoy simply dipped his head once.

"You're not going to make me fail Potions of purpose, are you?" Harry asked wearily.

"You don't need my help with that, Potter!" Malfoy commented, his voice trying to hide something that surprisingly sounded like laughter. "You and Weasley do a good enough job of that yourselves! Besides, if you don't trust me, you could always check with Granger later."

Harry quickly realized that he was out of excuses, and his defenses were crumbling. He could just simply refuse, but he didn't really have a legitimate reason and he did need to finish his essay that day. Harry could just imagine himself in Snape's class, regretting not taking Malfoy up on his offer.

"Fine!" Harry gave in, not seeing any other logical choice. It would be a miracle if the two of them managed to leave the library calm and unscathed. He wasn't too sure how he felt about the situation.

Harry handed his paper over to Malfoy to read and check. It seemed that it took Malfoy all of thirty seconds to do just that. Immediately, Malfoy started correcting things. Harry simply gawked at the blonde, awed by the speed with which he worked. Even Hermione couldn't do that!

Harry barely noticed when Malfoy handed him back his paper, but he did see the many red marks in a simple, yet elegant, tiny cursive writing all over it.

"Really, Potter! That was dreadful!" Malfoy started with the criticisms Harry expected. "Your handwriting was barely legible, half of the information was irrelevant, incorrect, or just didn't make sense, and you're also missing about six inches off of your essay!"

As Malfoy spoke, Harry read over Malfoy's comments. At the top of the parchment was a big red D, for dreadful, he noticed.

"Here, use these texts to correct your information and make it longer. You're lucky that Professor Snape doesn't grade as harshly as I do. You might've gotten a P of that, but definitely not an A!" Malfoy's eyes were narrowed, but Harry could still see that the blonde knew what he was talking about.

Harry nodded obediently, and started correcting the essay. Malfoy was giving him suggestions, or flipping to a page in a book, trying to help him out.

Not for the first time, Harry wondered _why_ Malfoy was helping him. It didn't make sense, and it was very unlike Malfoy to do things like that. But those were facts he'd already established. No matter how many times his mind went around in circles trying to find the answer, he couldn't figure it out. By then, he was itching to just confront Malfoy about it.

But, Harry kept his mouth shut until he finished his work. Once again, Malfoy was checking the essay, making sure that the information was correct. He really seemed to know what he was doing.

Harry stared at him even after he was done.

"I know I'm good-looking, Potter, and I understand why you'd want to stare, but please don't make it so obvious."

Malfoy's comment bought Harry back to reality, and currently his pride lay in not blushing easily.

"Yeah right!" He replied, knowing it was the best he could come up with at the moment, except for a snort.

A slight frown entered Malfoy's face, but it wasn't there for too long. Harry barely had a chance to see it before it disappeared.

Malfoy handed Harry back his essay, free of red corrections, and started to get up and leave.

"Wait! Malfoy…" Harry started, stopping Malfoy in his tracks. Harry knew that this would probably be the only chance he would get to ask his questions, so he took advantage of it. "Thanks for your help! God knows I needed it. But why?"

"Talk sense, Potter," Malfoy replied impatiently.

"Why did you help me?"

Harry hoped that what he was actually talking about was as obvious to the blonde as it was to him. It wasn't that he didn't want to why Malfoy had just helped him with his homework – he really did – but the fever from the previous night had started to dominate his mind. Thousands of different "whys" floated around in his head, but this was the most vague and the most direct.

"You needed help," Malfoy replied. His mouth was tight and he refused to look at Harry.

"Yes, but why did _you_ decide to help _me_?"

"Is there a rule that says I can't help you out every now and then, Potter?"

"No, of course not! But…I thought that we hated each other?"

Harry blinked, sure that what he'd just seen was a mistake. He would swear that Malfoy had just flinched at the word "hated," but he wasn't sure. He'd never seen a Malfoy react negatively in any way other than anger, so it would be an understatement to say that he was surprised.

"I suppose we do hate each other Potter. Besides, it's not like I forced my help upon you."

Now it was Harry's turn to flinch, but only from Malfoy's icy tone.

_Actually, you kind of did force it on me, Malfoy!_ Harry thought rather uselessly; he felt like screaming that at the blonde, but he knew he shouldn't.

However, Malfoy did pose and interesting point: Why had he, Harry, accepted Malfoy's help? He knew he was strong enough to fight Malfoy off if he really didn't like something, but that didn't explain anything.

Harry thought back to the previous night rather suddenly, remembering a small detail that he'd hoped – and tried – to forget.

_Harry felt warm and cold at the same time. He could barely keep his eyes open, and speak, as he argued with Malfoy about something trivial: the temperature of the soup being too hot. He really didn't care too much for the temperature of the soup, or the soup itself, but Malfoy was being persistent, so Harry did not want to give him the satisfaction of winning._

_He didn't notice when the conversation actually shifted over to a very different topic: how hot Malfoy thought he was._

_The fact that Malfoy found him hot was disturbing and pleasing at the same time. He was disturbed a bit by the fact that Malfoy had actually looked at him that way, and had found him better than average. He was pleased because he felt that this gave him some sort of victory over his long-time enemy. He tried to ignore the warm feeling he had gotten when Malfoy had actually told him he was hot._

_Harry was glad that Malfoy had kept eye contact throughout the whole conversation. His gaze had not only reassured him that Malfoy told him the truth, but also helped him keep his face clear of a blush. _

_After that, Harry had quickly devoured the soup, not tasting any of it, and shuffled over to the bed. As soon as he sat down surprising thoughts started chasing themselves around in his head, all starting with Malfoy joining him on the bed. _

_When Malfoy had started to speak again, Harry had only been able to reply because he'd tried very hard. He couldn't have Malfoy knowing what was going on with him, and get the wrong idea, especially since he wasn't too sure about it himself. He made a mental note to talk to Hermione about it later. She'd know, since she seemed to know everything._

_When Malfoy pretty much forced the Dreamless Sleep Potion down his throat, another burst of inappropriate thoughts flared across his mind. He was glad for the sleep when it finally engulfed him, but definitely not for the warmth he felt spreading throughout his body at the thought of Malfoy being there with him, to take care of him._

That was why he'd tried not to be overly concerned with why Malfoy had helped him the previous night. If he even thought about it, the warm feeling would engulf him again, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. He'd yet to ask Hermione why he felt like that, but he had a strong suspicion that he dearly hoped was wrong.

He heard a groan and looked up to see Malfoy walking away. He was already at the end of the section and was about to disappear as Harry ran after him, after quickly stuffing everything into his bag. He left the books where they were. Madam Pince would put them away when she found them.

"Malfoy!" he called out, but this time the blonde didn't turn around to acknowledge him. Instead, he seemed to pick up his pace.

But Harry wasn't going to give up that easily. He really needed to talk to Malfoy, though why the urgency had increased from a few seconds ago was as much as mystery to him as it was to anyone else.

"Malfoy!" he called out again, this time much louder and much closer to the entrance of the library. Madam Pince looked sharply at the two of them and would've told them to keep it down had Harry not murmured a quick apology to her. However, he didn't stop.

Malfoy had apparently expected him to be caught up with Madam Pince because he'd slowed down his pace considerably and made it ten times easier for Harry to catch up with him. Harry may have been fast, but he was still shorter than Malfoy by a bit, so the boy with the longer legs was faster.

Harry could see the surprise in Malfoy's eyes when he slammed him up against the wall in a hallway close to the library. Harry didn't linger on the fact that had he not used a shortcut, he probably would've only managed to catch up with the blonde.

He quickly glanced up and down the hallway, making sure no one was there to eavesdrop on them. Then he turned back to Malfoy, whose eyes were now glaring at Harry.

"What do you want, Potter?" he hissed out.

"Don't act stupid. You were just trying to avoid me."

"No shit. Why would I want to spend time with you, Potter?"

Harry wasn't too sure why he winced at that, but didn't let Malfoy go.

"There's something going on here, and we both know it. Explain yourself." Harry's tone was commanding, and even he knew it. He was daring Malfoy to refuse him.

"Don't tell me what to do, Potter."

They both glared defiantly at each other, neither willing to give up. However, it didn't take Harry long to realize that Malfoy was less likely to give him the answers he needed if he didn't stop being so controlling.

"Fine, Malfoy. Would you _please_ tell me what is going on inside your head?"

Malfoy glared at him even more, obviously insulted by Harry's sarcastic tone. However, this time, he did give a satisfactory answer.

"I don't know what had come over me when I helped you out yesterday. I'd originally just wanted to get the three of you in trouble. That would've been fun."

Malfoy smirked at the thought, while Harry immediately frowned.

"Anyway, so I followed you, and you led me into that room. I've never seen it before. What does it do, anyway?"

Harry realized that Malfoy wanted an answer, but he wasn't going to give him one. The Room of Requirement was necessary for many of the students in the school, and Harry didn't want to be the one getting it taken away from them.

When Harry shook his head, Malfoy nodded and continued.

"Well I went into the room, but Granger seemed to know I was there. She wasn't supposed to, so it was a surprise when she backed me up against the door."

"What did she say?" Harry interrupted, curious as to what his best friend could possibly have to tell Malfoy.

"That's nothing you need to worry about, Potter."

"Malfoy…" Harry's voice was full of warning, but Malfoy did not take the hint. He was using the situation to his advantage, Harry realized.

"I saw that you were sick. I wanted to torture you, lightly at least. Enough so that you'd hate me even more. But something told me to talk to you instead of insulting you. Something told me to help you. I listened to that something. I left you after our little argument and went straight to the kitchens, asking for some soup and the fruit, which you need to eat, by the way. It's good for you, especially when you have a cold. It gives you nutrients that you really need."

Harry was slightly disturbed by Malfoy lecturing him to eat his fruits. That would've been something he'd expect from a concerned family member, or friend, not an enemy.

"I also got you some chocolate, which you weren't supposed to steal. If you didn't finish the whole bunch, I was supposed to be enjoying the rest of it right about now."

"You like chocolate?" Harry asked, not sure why he was being distracted by such a minor fact.

"I _love_ chocolate, and I want my chocolate back."

"Well that's too bad, because I've already eaten all of it!" Harry felt like sticking his tongue out at Malfoy right then, like a little kid would've done, but then his original purpose was brought back into his mind. "Anyway, continue with your story."

Malfoy nodded. "I got some things from the Slytherin dorms, then went back and got the food from the kitchens. I've never hated disillusionment charms so much. On the way back, I met Mrs. Norris, but nothing too bad happened. Then, I forced you to have the soup and you went to sleep. But you did have a fever, no matter how much you denied it. So I used the poultice to bring it down. It worked. I was dead tired, so I fell asleep right after that, probably really early this morning."

Harry nodded once again. This answered part of the question, but it was not what he was looking for. Malfoy had just recounted what had basically happened the previous night, but not why. And he wasn't about to settle for a weak "I don't know" from Malfoy.

"And?" Harry pressed.

"And what, Potter?"

"You know that's not the end of it! Why did you help me feel better? Why did you help me out with my essay today? Why are you even being civil towards me right now?"

Malfoy looked away from Harry's eyes, not wanting to answer. Part of Harry was waiting for Malfoy to start blushing.

"I don't know."

"Don't give me that shit!" Harry was almost yelling now, feeling very frustrated. He didn't even know why, but that didn't quite matter too much.

"What about you, Potter? Why do you care so much? Why does it matter why I helped you?"

Harry knew his grip had loosened on Malfoy, but the blonde didn't try to move at all. He was patiently waiting for Harry's answer when they both knew he had none.

After a minute of silence, Malfoy nodded, seeming both pleased and disappointed. "I thought so. Now, Potter, would be so kind as to let me go?"

And Harry reinforced his grip. His wand was now in his hand, but he wasn't pointing it at Malfoy. Yet.

"I don't fucking know, Potter!" Malfoy finally seemed to be losing his cool.

"You have to know!"

"Fine! You want to know why I think I did it? You really want to know what's going on in my head? I'll tell you then! I think I'm starting to fucking like you, Potter! A lot! And I don't think it started last night either! I just didn't realize the stupid thing until then!"

Malfoy was yelling by then, straight at Harry's face, but Harry didn't care. The arm that was holding Malfoy in place dropped back to his side. The grip on his wand slackened, but he didn't let go. He backed away a bit, giving Malfoy some space.

_What the hell…?_

Malfoy had stopped speaking, but Harry didn't notice. They were staring at each other, but Harry didn't notice. Footsteps were filling up the hallway and Harry didn't notice. The teachers started yelling at them not to start fighting, and Harry didn't notice. They gave him detention and Harry still didn't notice.

But Harry did notice when Malfoy's gaze turned from angry to sad. He noticed when Malfoy's shoulders dropped in defeat. He noticed when the blonde started to walk away. He noticed the sad back as it got further and further away from him.

* * *

Eventually, Harry had regained the feeling in his limbs and walked back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room had been empty, so he hadn't bothered heading up to the dorm rooms. Instead, he'd picked a chair by the fireplace and curled up in it.

He didn't know how long he'd laid there, just staring at the fire, but that was how Hermione and Ginny had found him. Ginny had immediately rushed off somewhere, probably to find Ron, but Hermione sat down in front of his chair, her back to him.

She didn't say anything, and when Ron did show up, he somehow seemed to know better than to comment on anything. Harry figured that Hermione was probably just giving him time to open up. He knew he would, in the end.

"Harry…" she finally started, but didn't say anything more. It was up to Harry to continue the conversation.

So he told her. He told her everything that had happened the previous night, including the warm feeling in his stomach, and in the library (skipping the part about him and Malfoy talking about liking her). She didn't interrupt him until he was finished, and by the end, Harry had started pacing in front of her.

At least he'd regained feeling in his body.

"How do you feel about that, Harry?" Hermione finally asked.

Harry sighed and collapsed where he was standing. This really was the last thing he needed at the moment.

"I don't know, 'Mione. I'm surprised that he likes me. I mean, we've hated each other since forever! I'm kind of disgusted, 'cause he's a guy, and I've grown up with gay relationships being wrong. I think he's out of his mind. But…"

"But?"

"But I still got that warm feeling when he said it. I still felt sad when I saw him walking away. I wanted to stop him, to say something – anything – to him."

"I see."

Hermione had a thoughtful look on her face, and she seemed to be figuring things out really quickly. Finally she looked at Harry.

"Well?" he asked, wondering what conclusion she'd reached.

"Well, I think…I don't think either of you really know what you're feeling right now. You two know each other on a different level, so I can't be sure. But, I think you're both just curious what it's like to be with the other."

"So I don't like him?" Harry almost sighed in relief, but he wanted to be sure first. If he knew for sure that he didn't like Malfoy, rejecting him would be a lot easier, because he couldn't just leave the situation hanging as it was.

"Oh, no. You probably do. I'm just saying that you're both experimenting right now, so it's probably just a teenage crush."

Harry turned to her, his face full of desperation and confusion. "That doesn't help, Hermione!"

"I'm sorry. But that's probably what's going on right now."

She smiled at him, letting him know that she was going to be there for him when he needed her. He surprised her by engulfing her in a hug.

"But what if I like someone else right now?" he whispered.

"It's possible to like two people at the same time, but one of them is probably just you trying to convince yourself that you like them, and not your real crush."

"Oh…"

"Yeah…"

"Well, thanks a lot, Hermione."

Harry pulled back to smile at her, before getting up. He helped her up as well, and then went to find Ron. He didn't plan on telling Ron that there was a slight possibility that he was in love with either their best friend or their worst enemy, especially since Hermione's words had only ended up confusing him more. Ron would chew his head out either way, so there really was no point in telling him. But he knew Ron would be worried as well, so he had to let the red-head know that he was okay, at least.

Ron seemed to be really curious as to what had happened to him. He was convinced that Malfoy had cursed him. Harry didn't bother telling Ron how far he was from the truth, but he didn't deny it either. Their conversation only left Ron more frustrated than he'd been before, and he'd told Harry that he'd kill Malfoy right then if he could. Harry hadn't known what to say to that.

* * *

That night, when Harry had finally been able to fall asleep, instead of having dreams involving Voldemort and what he was going to do, or how he felt, Harry dreamt about his love life.

Ninety percent of the dream seemed to involve Malfoy.

**

* * *

**

TBC

**-hides- I know it's not the best I could've come up with, but it was more of a filler chapter (that **_**really**_** needed to be there)! I know the confession was probably really random, especially since neither of them are sure of their feelings (as Hermione pointed out). **

**I hope everything made sense to you all like it did to me when I was writing it. If it didn't just review (or message me), and I'll try to clarify any confusion. **

**So what did you think of the chapter? Anything you hate/like? Anything I can improve on, or should change?**

**And would you like me the write the NEXT CHAPTER?? **

**Thanks a lot for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!**


	3. Practice in the Quidditch Pitch

**Chapter 3 - Practice in the Quidditch Pitch**

* * *

Draco was pacing around the Slytherin common room, his nerves on fire, and his mind perfectly alert. He wasn't completely sure what he was thinking of – everything seemed to be in a jumble. Nothing made sense anymore. Why had he told Potter that he thought he was in love with him?

The thought of the moment made Draco stop and shake his head, before he resumed his pacing. It was disturbing. He'd never considered it before, and he didn't want to consider it now. What he'd said to Potter was a lie. _A complete and total lie!_ He told himself, yet again.

"Draco…?" A familiar feminine voice asked.

Draco looked up to see Pansy's face worked into worry. She was staring at him, still obviously trying to figure him out. It had been her mission since the beginning, when he'd first met her. Apparently he'd said something surprising, and after that, she'd become completely obsessed with him. It wasn't like she was in love with him or anything. To her, Draco was just an insatiable curiosity.

Draco appraised her curiously, silently asking her to say what she wanted to. She knew him well enough to at least understand that.

"What's wrong, Draco? You've been pacing around for the past half hour, and everyone's staring at you. Normally, you'd notice that." Her voice was even and indifferent. That was one thing he liked about her. They both knew what was going on between them, yet she tried so hard to act like she was indifferent and hide curiosity. For Draco, it usually made his days fun.

But now, he just wanted her to…

_To what?_ He asked himself. He wasn't sure what he wanted Pansy to do. He wasn't even sure what he himself wanted to do. And again, the confusion crashed down on top of him. He groaned.

"I don't fucking know, Pansy!" He screamed, his voice full of venom.

This time, Draco knew that all the Slytherin's had turned to stare at him, wondering could possibly be wrong.

As he made for the boy's dormitories, he saw Pansy's hurt face through his peripheral vision. She wasn't about to cry, which Draco took as a good sign, so he kept going.

Falling dramatically on his bed didn't help. Neither did randomly tossing, turning, and cursing. Staring up at the ceiling was useless as well. So was pacing. Nothing seemed to make Draco's mind clear up. Instead, everything seemed even more jumbled up than before. As if he needed that.

And again, someone had to interrupt him.

"Draco." This time, the voice was more masculine, more seductive, and less caring, completely indifferent. Draco had gotten used to Blaise's uncanny ability to think he was anywhere near as good as Draco, but that didn't stop him from wanting to hit the boy every time.

"What, Blaise?" His voice came out as tired, something he was not.

"Is there a problem? You are making a lot of noise and I have to rest for a while."

Draco smirked. Of course! It was Blaise's nap time!

"Go right ahead. I'll just shut up for now." Now, Draco's tone was full of self-satisfaction and condescension.

Blaise stood near the doorway and glared at Draco for a while before deeming that Draco would follow up on his word. He was proved wrong as soon as he closed his eyes.

"Blaise…" Draco whispered, hoping to disturb the other boy. They may have acted unfairly towards each other, but they were really close. At least, Draco vented to Blaise anytime something was wrong. And Blaise was usually smart enough not to go spread it around the school.

However, Blaise didn't reply. He kept acting like he was asleep.

"You know what happened, earlier today? I ran into Potter. In the library. I was doing the essay Professor Snape had assigned us, and so was he. He's terrible at Potions, did you know that? It's no wonder he gets picked on all the time, by Professor Snape." He paused to take a breath and remember what had happened.

"Anyway, so I offered to help him with his essay, and we started talking about different things. That's when things got weird."

Draco remembered telling Blaise about what had happened with Potter and his fever the previous night earlier that morning. But, he wasn't sure he wanted to bring it back up again. He decided he might as well.

"He started asking me why I helped him out last night. Actually, I was wondering that myself, and I can't figure anything out. It was the same at that time. So I tried to stall, and randomly babbled. Then, I had an ingenious and stupid idea. And my mouth listened to me before I could stop it."

Blaise had the decency to fake a snore at that point. Draco smirked, and walked over to his friend's bed, knowing he was still awake. For one thing, the only people in the dorm who snored were Crabbe and Goyle. It was annoying, so he, Blaise, and Theo had started bullying the two into putting silencing charms around them every night.

"I told him that I liked him."

Blaise's breathing faltered for the shortest moment before resuming their previous pace. Whatever he'd been expecting, Draco knew it wasn't that.

"What happened then?"

Draco sighed, glad that Blaise hadn't blatantly asked why he'd made such a stupid mistake. Now Potter would think that he was a gay stalker who was in love with him. He'd probably spread rumors as well. Draco really did not need that at the moment.

"Potter looked a bit shocked. Okay, _very_ shocked. When the teachers came and gave us detention, I don't even think he noticed. It was a bit strange, but I left. I'm not sure what happened to him after that. It was all so…confusing."

"Is that so?" Blaise had gone back to being annoyed because he wasn't being allowed to take his evening nap.

Draco thought about it for a bit, and then nodded. He knew Blaise couldn't see, but the boy would come to the right conclusion. After a while, Draco got up. "Thanks for listening, Blaise!" He left the boy to his nap, grateful that Blaise had at least listened and not really commented on anything. His venting sessions with Blaise were usually different that those with Pansy (which would be full of commentary, gasps, questions, etc.). It was what he'd needed, and now he felt better.

And still completely confused.

This time, instead of heading back to his bed, he left for the Great Hall. It was almost dinner time anyway. He might as well get there early.

He didn't know why, but on the way, he made a stop at his Potion's teacher's office.

When he knocked, he was told to enter by a stern, fatigued voice. Apparently, the Potions Master was working away at…something.

Draco wasn't too sure what it was, but he was glad that it was seemingly odorless.

"Uncle Sev?" Draco asked, looking for the voice that had told him to enter.

"In here, Draco." Severus replied from the closet. Draco didn't approach the place, knowing it was off limits to him. Besides, Severus was coming back out anyway.

When Draco saw him, he raised an eyebrow in question. Severus looked extremely worn-out, like he hadn't slept in a while. Severus met Draco's question with a pointed stare, flatly refusing to answer at all.

"Still working on that, Uncle Sev?" Draco asked instead. Of course, Severus wasn't really his uncle. He was his god-father, but from when he was younger, his mother had insisted that he call the older man "uncle" instead of "god-father." It had stuck with him. As had the nickname "Sev," which had aroused because he wasn't able to pronounce the Potions Master's full name when he had be younger.

"Is there anything you need, Draco? I am extremely busy right now."

"Yes. I was wondering if you had anything to clear up confusion. I have a special need for it at the moment." The sneer that was sneakily twisted into Draco's voice would have fooled almost all, but Severus was one of the exceptions. He didn't comment. Instead, he went back inside his closet and, for a while, all that could be heard was rustling.

When he came back out, Severus was holding a vial in his hand. Draco watched closely as he waved his wand and summoned some pumpkin juice from kitchens. Draco let out a frustrated sigh when Severus turned his back to him. He _always_ did that, and even though he was used to it by then, it bothered him for some reason.

"Here you go, Draco." Severus waited, watching Draco gulp down the whole potion. Draco wasn't sure what it was, but was suddenly too tired to ask. "Now, if you would please excuse me."

Dismissed, and quickly forgetting his original intention, Draco slowly wandered back to his bed, falling on it with a muffled thump. He hadn't realized he was so tired. Whatever that potion was, it must've had some ingredients that called sleep for a person. The last thing Draco heard from reality was a soft grunt from his left. He assumed it was Blaise before everything seeped into blankness.

* * *

Monday morning passed rather slowly, as it always did for most students. The weekend had just finished and everyone was eager to stay in their warm beds. Draco was not an exception to this unofficial rule that seemed to hover over most of the student body.

When he finally slipped out of bed, Draco's normal day started with glaring at everyone who thought to cross his path.

Both Pansy and Blaise were abruptly ignored when they wished him a quick "good-morning," but Crabbe and Goyle weren't so lucky. They wisely decided not to speak to him for a while.

His classes were slow, except for Herbology, which seemed to fly by as usual. Most people didn't know that Draco liked that class very much and he wanted to keep it that way. It wouldn't do for people to find out that he liked the only class that Longbottom was good at.

When the school day finally ended, the evening began for the social aspect of it all. Most of the time, Draco looked forward to this period of lazing about and not focusing on school, but today, he just wanted to skip through it. So he did.

Draco left, using the usual afternoon confusion as his cover, for the Quidditch pitch. He didn't remember the last time he'd been there, since he'd skipped the past few infrequent practices. It wasn't that he really wanted to skip Quidditch practice. He just didn't see the point of trying since Potter would always defeat them.

_Damn it!_ Draco cursed internally. He'd been doing an excellent job of blocking all thoughts of Potter, since he'd woken up that morning, and the problem about what he'd mistakenly said. But now, since he'd thought one moment about the brunette, said brunette had started to dominate his thoughts once again.

He didn't like Harry Potter. He _hated _him. And Potter hated him back. That was plain fact. So why was he even concerning himself with thinking about the green-eyed boy?

Draco jumped on his Nimbus 2001 and flew off into the sky. He randomly went around and through the Quidditch pitch, not really bothering to see what he was doing. He'd done this so many times it was almost second nature to him. Instead, Draco concentrated on his thoughts, and, once again, what had happened the previous afternoon.

_Why _had he told Potter that he liked him? It wasn't like him at all. He'd never even told any of his lovers that he liked them. But that was always because he'd never truly liked anyone before. All his past girl and boyfriends had been with him purely for sexual reasons. Then, did that mean that he actually liked Potter?

Draco stopped midair and considered for about half a second, before he burst out laughing.

_Me? Liking Potter?_ Draco kept laughing at himself as he sped around the field once again. He felt his body relax, something he realized it hadn't been doing since a few days ago. It felt really nice. He felt free.

But, of course, it was because of feeling so open that Draco failed to notice another presence joining him in the sky.

"Malfoy…" The call was almost a whisper and would have been lost in the sky, because of the distance, had it not been so utterly silent.

Draco almost fell out of the sky when he heard someone call out to him. He gripped his broom tighter and turned to face opposite side of the field where the voice had come from.

"Potter." Draco called back, his body once again tensing, his face once again glaring. When had Potter gotten there? Draco hadn't noticed, so he silently cursed himself for being unaware of his surroundings, especially since Potter could have easily attacked, and accidentally killed, him by then. It wasn't in his nature to be so defenseless and spaced out, so he tried to reach for his wand. Too late, he realized that he'd left it back on his bed. He hadn't been expecting to see someone out in the field, since it was getting closer and closer to the end of the November.

"What're you doing here, Malfoy?" Potter asked, this time louder.

Draco sighed, recognizing the same old greeting. It was always the same old greeting, always wondering what the hell the other was doing at the same place. He'd never really realized how tired he'd gotten of it.

"You're not the only one who plays Quidditch in this school, Potter. I have as much a right to be here as you do." Draco's voice sounded weary, even to himself. He vaguely wondered whether he should just leave the field so they wouldn't fight.

He dismissed the idea quickly enough. There was no point in leaving the field just because Potter had arrived. He'd been there first anyway, so if anyone should leave, it'd have to be Potter.

"Oh…right…okay…" Potter mumbled to himself. Draco was surprised he could still hear the other boy. Neither was sure what they should do then, and the silence that followed was thick with awkwardness. Finally, Draco sighed once again.

He'd realized that just hovering in the air staring at each other wasn't going to make the other really do anything, and nothing would change. A part of him almost wished that he could go back to arguing and fighting with the other boy, but they'd both already gotten detention, and he didn't have the energy. His previous mistake was making any slightly civil conversation impossible for him, so Draco just randomly started wandering around the field once again. This time, he moved slowly, so as not the surprise the other boy.

Potter kept staring at Draco, his eyes strewn with suspicion when Draco started moving. Draco assumed it was that suspicion that caused Potter to start moving the other way. To an outsider, it would've looked like the two were circling the arena getting prepared for an upcoming fight.

It was Potter who tried an attempt at conversation first.

"So…how've you been?" his timid voice carried across the field pretty well, but gave away the uncertainty he felt also.

Draco jerked his head up, completely surprised. He'd expected the whole time to pass by silently until sundown. He'd planned to watch the sun set and then head back down to the Slytherin common room. He also expected Potter to think the same way, except maybe leave a bit earlier. Apparently, he was wrong.

"What're you up to, Potter?" Draco replied with a question of his own, since he wasn't too sure what was wrong with the brunette. He didn't want to be caught off guard again, so he tried to steer the conversation away from himself.

"I'm not exactly sure. But I'm curious, so please?" Potter's request took a little while to process but Draco was still suspicious.

He battled with himself for a while before settling on an answer.

"I'm really tired. School's only been in session for about three months, but I wish it was over already. I don't want to be here. It's very depressing. I wish I was seventeen already. I want to leave. And you, Potter?" Most of Draco's reply had been the truth, and even he knew how melancholy he sounded. It didn't matter. Potter was the one who'd been curious, so he might as well get the truth, right?

It took Potter a little longer to reply. There was a short period of silence, except for the whooshing of their brooms moving through the air, before Potter answered.

"I'm tired as well, but I don't want the school year to end yet. I like it here – most of the time – and I want to stay. I have friends here, and they stop the place from being too depressing. Being seventeen would be nice, but right now I'm okay with being fifteen. Why don't you want to be here?"

So that would be how their conversation would flow. One of them would ask a question, and the other would answer, then ask a question of their own. Draco figured it was for the best. They were nowhere close to being the type of acquaintances that would randomly blurt out their problems to each other then be on their own separate ways. Talking would require persistence, and lots of prodding questions. Draco wasn't too sure he was looking forward to it.

"Unlike you, _Potter_," Draco added some extra venom at the younger boy's name, just for special effects; "I don't have devoted friends here. And even if I did, it'd be depressing, I'm assuming. The Slytherins aren't really happy people. Did you expect anything different?"

"No…I guess not…But what about Crabbe and Goyle? And I've seen you hanging around with that one girl and that one other bloke…"

Draco almost smiled. He knew exactly who Potter was talking about even though he'd used vague descriptions.

"Crabbe and Goyle are just followers. They have no brains of their own, so they need someone to think for them. Unfortunately, they decided to choose me. 'That one girl' is Pansy. She isn't too bad, but she's a Slytherin, and a girl. There's just something's that she'll never understand. Same with 'that one other bloke,' Blaise. He listens, but he never replies. He…isn't helpful. All four of them are more like acquaintances than friends. They're just people I have no choice but to be with." Draco sighed at admitting that fact, to Potter no less. If someone had told him to do this a few minutes ago, he'd have laughed at their face and then hexed them.

But this was different. This felt new.

Draco felt a bit more relaxed. Some part of him trusted this strange truce that had come between the two of them.

"So you don't have any real friends?"

"Weren't you listening, Potter?"

Potter disregarded the snide remark and continued. "Why don't you make friends with people outside of Slytherin? If Slytherins are so depressing, why not try the other houses?"

"Because I am in Slytherin. Do you really think that anyone would want to befriend a Slytherin? Maybe you haven't noticed, but the rest of the school pretty much hates us."

"I would."

"I already know you hate me Potter, no need to keep reminding me."

"No, I meant that I'd befriend a Slytherin if they wanted me to."

Draco stared at Potter. Then started laughing mockingly.

"Yeah, right, Potter. Sure you would!"

"No! I'm serious! I have no problems being friends with a Slytherin!"

Potter's face looked like it wanted to blush really hard, but it was still retaining its original pigmentation. A pout graced his features. Draco stopped laughing. He decided to humor the green-eyed Gryffindor.

"Even with me?" Draco asked, molding his voice to sound hopeful, but not eager.

Potter hesitated, but Draco gave him the benefit of a doubt.

"Yes. Even you."

Silence issued forth as the two kept circling, both now lost in their own minds. Draco was considering Potter's surprising answer, but a large part of him didn't believe it. If Potter had meant what he'd said, did that mean that the two of them were friends? But that wasn't entirely possible, was it? They hated each other. So, it only stood to reason that they couldn't be friends.

But couldn't they? Potter had said he'd be okay with being Draco's friend. But why? It wasn't a secret the Draco would eventually join the Death Eaters. What if Potter tried to use him as a means to get information out of the Dark Lord's circle? What if Potter only meant to trick him into believing that they were friends?

Or, what if – a horrendous thought struck Draco, making him even more attentive to the situation. What if Potter was taking what he'd said the previous day seriously and wanted to find out some more about him? What if Potter had actually started to fall in love with him? To Draco, that'd be even worse than being tricked by Potter.

He shivered violently at the thought of Potter coming on to him. A large part of him found it extremely disgusting. But, then again, there was that one traitorous part that quite liked the idea.

But that was absurd! Potter couldn't like him. Potter wouldn't like him. Even idiotic Potter had more sense than to actually start liking _him_. Draco convinced himself that he was overreacting and that Potter had other reasons for being okay with being his friend.

"Malfoy?" Potter started once again, but this time, Draco wasn't too surprised. He was freaked out by what Potter was about to ask him though.

Draco didn't reply, but nodded for Potter to continue. His insides twisted with nerves, so he didn't trust himself to speak. What if Potter did ask him about yesterday? How would he reply? He prayed that someone was on his side.

And he had no such luck. God had always seemed to have a particular dislike towards the youngest Malfoy, and that evening was no exception.

"Did you mean what you said yesterday?"

Draco didn't know how to answer, because he truly did not know the answer. A part of him laughed at the mere thought of liking Potter. But he wasn't blind, and definitely saw the appealing aspects of such a relationship. Draco sighed, and Potter kept staring at him. Draco wished that something would happen to take him out the Quidditch pitch. It was really uncomfortable situation and he didn't want to be there.

So, Draco decided to play dumb. "What're you talking about, Potter?" He hoped his voice didn't give away any uneasiness that he felt. It just wouldn't do to answer "I don't know" to Potter's question.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Malfoy. Did you mean it? Or didn't you?"

"Why does it matter?"

"…I don't know. I guess I'm just curious."

"So it doesn't matter."

"It does. It matters to me. I want to know what you were thinking then. Did you just say that so I would stop questioning you? If you did, it was a pretty stupid idea, because now I can't stop thinking about –"

Potter didn't let himself finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. Draco whipped around immediately to face Potter dead-on, and stared him down. He was wondering what to say.

Potter took a deep breath and continued. "I can't stop thinking about what you said, about you. So, did you mean it?"

Draco was listening carefully to Potter's words, not completely sure what he was searching for. He heard a pleading in the younger boy's words and that seemed to decide everything for him.

"I want to mean it."

His words didn't make too much sense to him, but they seemed to be the right thing to say, because Potter had started smiling openly.

"I think you're crazy, Malfoy!" Potter replied, but there was no venom in his voice. He was still smiling brightly.

For his part, Draco just gawked at his rival. Potter had never smiled like that at him before, and he was…confounded? Amazed? Something. He felt incredible for a moment before he flew over to the middle of the field.

Potter mimicked his actions.

They just stared at each other for a while, before Potter seemed to have an idea.

"Hey, do you want to play a game?" he asked, his face alight.

"That depends on what it is."

"Let's see who can catch the Snitch first, shall we?" Potter reached into his robes and pulled out a battered looking Golden Snitch. He held it between his forefinger and his thumb, allowing the Snitch to spread its wings, but not take flight.

Draco chuckled. Potter knew that he would win at their little "game" but Draco had no objections to a bit of friendly rivalry.

Potter correctly interpreted Draco's laugh as a "yes" and let go of the Snitch. In the blink of an eye, both boys sped off in opposite directions. Their goal was to let the Snitch have a few moments head start before they started competing. It usually worked to their advantage when the Snitch appeared randomly in front of one of them.

The circled around the field for a while, the now setting sun creating a golden backdrop for their last-minute game. It was beautiful really, except that it made it a bit hard to see if one of them happened to be on the wrong side of the field. There was also the fact that the Snitch was gold in color. It made it very difficult to see.

However difficult it was to see the Snitch, it wasn't impossible. It didn't take Draco or Potter too long to spot it hovering far above the center of the field. They both raced towards it. Both had the sun on one side of them, making it a bit difficult to see the other. Both squinted their eyes so they could keep their focus on the Snitch.

When Draco got a bit closer to the Snitch, he reached out for it. He could feel Potter rushing to beat him from the opposite direction, but Draco knew he was going to win. It just wasn't Potter's day.

But Draco had forgotten it wasn't his day either.

The moment Draco's fingers closed around the Snitch, Potter crashed into him. There was such force in the impact, it sent them both spiraling towards the ground, both barely clutching on to their brooms, and each other. They had been _very_ high up.

They landed all jumbled up. Draco wasn't sure where any part of his body was, and which parts belonged to Potter. He wasn't even sure where his broom had landed in the mess.

That was when he felt something move against his lips…

_What the hell?_ Draco wasn't sure why there was something moving against his lips, or why he liked the contact. He decided to open his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to like what he was about to see.

Him and Potter, lying flat on the grass.

Him on top of Potter, accidentally kissing him.

And Potter responding.

* * *

**TBC**

**Yeah, I'm not too sure what I was thinking while writing this either...so...yeah...**

**What did you think? Was it any good? **

**Sorry it was so late, I just kind of...forgot? I had this huge project to do. **

**I'm so glad next week had Veteran's Day...More time off to write! Yay! I promise I'll upate by Monday next-to-next week for all of you reading this story! **


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